The Spirit's Winter

Winter can come quickly and without warning. One day, the sun is shining, the air is crisp. We inhale deeply and savor the freshness of the morning. Then in the night, the winds pick up, and the temperature drops. By morning, the full force of nature has descended and threatens to bury you in its fury.

In the days that follow, you spend your time trying to dig yourself out of the snow, but if the storm was particularly fierce, you sometimes wonder if you will ever be able to find the path again and breathe freely. In your weak moments, you just sit down and feel it's never going to be the same.



But then, along the way, the sun peeks its face through the clouds, and you feel its warmth for a fleeting moment. Daring to hope a bit, you begin looking out the window in the morning, and you are filled with anticipation as you see the snow slowly giving ground, retreating into the earth.

Finally, the day comes when you can walk around freely. Though it is cold and wet, only patches of snow remain, and though all of nature seems dead and brown, you know that spring must be just around the corner, so you push through the cold days with a renewed vigor. You begin making plans: the flowers to plant in April, a fresh coat of paint for the house, a tropical vacation in summer. That mental bracing, preparing yourself to face the winter onslaught as you walk out the door, slowly relaxes, and you let down your guard.



But it's only January. Winter is not over; this is only a deceptive reprieve. The trust that had been so carefully guarded, you finally give it away again, and it's smashed to pieces. Again, the wind howls, and you run back inside, desperate to escape that pain that has numbed your extremities and threatens to freeze your heart.

Inside, safe from the elements again, you cuddle up under piles of blankets alone in a darkened room. I know that winter will pass. Spring will come, and flowers in my life will bloom again. But as I sit in the dark, I just wish it would get here soon.